


England for Anglophiles

by Koah



Category: Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: England (Country), Gen, London, Satire, Throwing Rocks at a Hornet's Nest While Inside Said Hornet's Nest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koah/pseuds/Koah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always annoying to have someone wander in and criticize you for not doing something properly.  Especially if it's something as absurd as "liking England."</p>
            </blockquote>





	England for Anglophiles

While his occupation was by no means a private one, David cherished these rare moments of quiet.  In his office, away from the cameras, the reporters, the tabloids, the endless bickering of Parliament, he felt as if he could actually accomplish something without being constantly interrupted or second-guessed, which is precisely why it was so vexing when he was rudely interrupted by three young women striding through the door.  
  
They bore an air of condescension and smug superiority, and David could only suspect that they were Americans.  This suspicion was further reinforced in that they dressed not as Americans, but as Americans trying entirely too hard to dress like the English.  The one in the front was doing a particularly good job of it with her World War II propaganda T-shirt, though he didn’t know what relevance “Don’t Blink” had over “Carry On.” “Is there something I can help you with?”  
  
“You most certainly can!” the one in the front said.  “You can start by cleaning out your desk.”  
  
It wasn’t the most audacious demand ever made of him by an American, but it came close. “I’m sorry?”  
  
“You-” She pointed to him with both fingers. “-clean out your desk-” She gestured to his desk. “-and leave.” She pointed back to the door. “We’re taking over.”  
  
David promptly amended his previous thought.  “Three American tourists are attempting a coup of England,” he stated, sliding one of his hands beneath his desk as surreptitiously as he could before hammering on the small button labeled “SECURITY.”  
  
“No, we’re _telling_ you to leave, because you don’t care about England.”  
  
“Ma’am, I’m the Prime Minister of England.  If I didn’t care about my country, I wouldn’t be here.”  
  
The two women behind the lead exchanged knowing looks as she put her hands on her hips, looking David over. “Okay.  Who’s your favorite Doctor?”  
  
“I admire the dedication our medical professionals,” he began, slipping into his answering-questions-without-actually-answering-them mode, “and their training and expertise has proven invaluable to-“  
  
“He doesn’t know!” She laughed, turning to her associates. “This peasant _doesn’t even know!_ ”  
  
The young women to the lead’s right rolled her eyes as the one to her left shouted “HIPSTERRRRRR!” before breaking out in a giggling fit.  
  
“See,” the lead said, “you don’t care.  You’re missing out on all the fun.  You probably don’t even Johnlock.”  
  
“‘Johnlock?’” David asked.  
  
“Oh, normal people are so adorable, aren’t they?” the one on the right said to no one in particular.  
  
The lead nodded. “Now while while we _are_ grateful that you agreed to allow gay marriage…”  
  
“…and just in time for season three!” the one on the right added.  
  
“…it’s too little, too late.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Now run along.  England is ours now, peasant.”  
  
David sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ll wager Tony never had to put up with this shit,” he muttered.


End file.
